Mentalist Episode Tag: Like a Redheaded Stepchild
by Donnamour1969
Summary: Picks up right where episode 3x21 left off. Conversations between Jane and the two women in his life.  Spoilers 3x21.


A/N: I wasn't a big fan of Thursday's show, mainly because it was so case-centric, lol. The stuff with Rigsby and his father was mildly disappointing to me also, and I really didn't believe for a second that this could be his dad. I did, however, love the scene between Rigsby and Van Pelt, so I picked up from there, and tried also to make up for the the lack of Jisbony goodness in the episode. Hope you like what I did with it...

**Episode Tag: Like a Red-headed Stepchild, 3x21**

Jane found Van Pelt in the break room, staring at the coffee pot. He noted with concern her tear-streaked face, the slightly smeared lipstick, and assessed the situation correctly immediately.

"That coffee won't make itself," he told her. She jumped a little, even though he had spoken softly. "But I did see this coffee maker once that doubled as a hot plate and an egg poacher."

"Huh?" she said, her mind so intent on Rigsby that she hadn't really absorbed what Jane had said.

He smiled gently. "Nothing. You okay?" She shook her head. _So I'm right_, he thought. "Rigsby's not coming to the wedding, is he?"

She looked at Jane for the first time since he came in. "How did you-? Of course. I'm forgetting who I'm talking to."

She laughed without humor, wiping her face with the back of her hand. He handed her a napkin from a stack on the counter, and Van Pelt dabbed at her eyes with a shaky hand.

"It's probably best that he doesn't come," Jane continued. He'd always thought of the pretty redhead like a little sister, with all the protectiveness that implies, despite the fact that she could probably break several of his bones with her bare hands.

She sniffled into the napkin. "Why do you say that?"

"Because it will divide your attention. You'll be wondering the whole time how he's feeling, so you'll try to act a little less happy for his benefit, thereby ruining the joy you should be feeling on your special day. You don't want to hurt him anymore than you already have." He paused, letting his words sink in. She gave a barely perceptible nod, agreeing with everything he'd said. "Plus…you're already wondering if it's fair to O'laughlin that you still have feelings for Rigsby. That kiss you just let him give you is what's confusing you…and what's making you cry."

One hand went involuntarily to her lips, stifling a gasp, and she flushed brightly enough to rival her hair. Jane reached over and brought her into his arms. "There, there, Grace," he murmured, patting her back consolingly. "Everyone marries wondering what might have been. It's human nature. We weren't biologically meant to be with just one person our whole lives. Conventional monogamous marriages exist only so the man can insure his offspring are his. So it's understandable that you find yourself wondering if you're making the right choice."

Van Pelt pulled away, then held up his left hand, looking meaningfully at the wedding band Jane still wore, even after several years of being a widower. Jane shrugged uncomfortably, dropping his hand. "I said it didn't make _biological _sense. Love defies most definitions of logic."

Van Pelt smiled knowingly at his hypocrisy. "What do you think I should do then?"

He gave her a wry little grin "Aw, Grace. I could tell you to follow your heart, but that isn't usually the organ one best thinks with, is it?"

She looked at Jane, thinking back on his skepticism about nearly everything and everyone, including religion, psychic abilities, and anything supernatural. Never once had she heard him denigrate true love, the most impractical of emotions as well as the one most difficult to define. Impulsively, she leaned over and kissed his cheek, noting with pleasure how the gesture made his eyes sparkle.

"What was that for?"

"You don't believe in much, Jane, but you _do_ believe in love, don't you? You're a closet romantic if I ever saw one."

He couldn't deny it, and began with a flip reply, which rapidly fell apart to an earnest plea. "What can I tell you? I—" His hands suddenly grasped her upper arms and he stared deeply into her eyes. "If you are lucky enough to find true love, Grace, don't be an idiot and take it for granted like I did. Believe me when I tell you that there is nothing worse than regretting something for the rest of your life."

"I won't," she said solemnly, her eyes round in surprise. A little embarrassed by his sudden intensity, Jane loosened his grip and stepped back in the guise of putting on the teapot.

"Did you still want coffee?" he asked, effectively changing the subject.

"No thanks. I think I'll go home instead. Thanks for the advice, Jane," she said to his back. "Good night."

"Good night, Grace." When he heard that she'd gone, he nearly slumped forward in emotional relief.

He busied himself getting out a favorite cup and saucer, choosing an herbal tea from the variety box he kept in the cupboard. While the water boiled, he allowed himself a moment to remember his own wedding day. It would have been twenty years ago, and the realization didn't take away the feeling that it might have been yesterday, so vivid were his memories.

His bride had taken his breath away as she'd walked down the aisle of the little church—this was before he'd stopped believing in God—with his friends and father filling the old-fashioned wooden pews. He allowed himself to feel that joy for just a few moments before the pain got so great he nearly doubled over with it. As it was, he had to sit down at the little table, squeezing his eyes shut as the rush of memories threatened to rip him apart from the inside out.

This was how Lisbon found him. He smelled her light perfume first as she walked past him to turn off the electric teakettle. Then, she sat in the chair across from him.

"Are you alright?" Lisbon asked.

He opened his eyes, having composed himself enough to give her a lazy grin. "Yeah. I'm just tired."

"Your water boiled," she said unnecessarily.

"Yes. Thank you."

When he still didn't move from his position, she said, "Would you like me to make your tea for you?"

He made a big production out of yawing and stretching. "That's quite alright, Lisbon. I can do it. You want some?"

"No thanks."

"Suit yourself." And Jane rose and went to work. One thing about Lisbon he really liked was how she knew when to be silent. Oddly enough, it usually got him talking. "You know," he said conversationally, pouring the milk. "I've got a bad feeling about Van Pelt's upcoming nuptials."

"Why?"

"It's just a feeling. That and Grace has a serious case of froze toes."

"Rigsby," she stated simply.

"Yep." He joined her again with his teacup, taking a tentative sip.

Lisbon sighed, then got up to get a diet soda from the refrigerator. "Another marriage, doomed from the start."

Jane raised a surprised eyebrow. "That's uncharacteristically pessimistic of you, Lisbon."

She shrugged, popping the top to the can and taking a grateful drink. "Happily ever after is for fairy tales and the imaginations of teenage girls. I blame chick flicks for ruining countless feminine lives."

He regarded her like a bug under a microscope, then became startled at his sudden epiphany: "You've never been in love, have you Teresa?"

She looked troubled by his perception, then made her face go blank again—the expression that to this day he had trouble reading. But her brief lapse and her recent words suddenly fell right into place, and Jane knew he had caught a rare glimpse into the soul of Teresa Lisbon.

It left him feeling slightly off balance.

"No. I haven't been in love," she was saying. "Not unless you count Bobby Madison my junior year of high school. He was my first so-called love. But teenage hormones do not a true love make. And I've had crushes along the way, but nothing has even come close to what you read about in books. It's all very disappointing. Even if true love does exist, as I've watched various friends and family members get divorce after divorce, I've come to the conclusion that happy, long-term relationships are patently impossible." She took another triumphant drink from her can.

Jane set down his tea and sat back in his chair. "You just haven't met the right man yet," he said softly. Their eyes connected, and Jane felt the familiar awareness pass between them. But that, he knew, was just physical attraction. Out of sight beneath the table, Jane twirled his ring around and around his finger, his subconscious attempting to remind him that he had found true love with his wife, and that by even contemplating loving someone else, he was cheating on her. So said his subconscious. His heart, however (that unreliable organ) was telling him something distinctly different.

"Maybe I haven't," Lisbon said, a little dazed by Jane's intense stare. Her eyes dropped down to her soda. "But that doesn't mean he's actually out there."

"He might be closer than you think," said Jane, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. He covered his mistake by getting up and dumping out his tea, which had suddenly tasted like mud in his mouth. As with Grace, he didn't turn around again, but busied himself washing his cup and pouring out the excess hot water from the pot. But he could feel Lisbon's gaze upon him. Was she considering his words and applying them to _him? _

"Good night, Jane," she said at last, and left him drying his clean cup.

"'Night, Lisbon."

Jane sighed, feeling emotionally drained by the two conversations. He put his cup and saucer back in the cupboard, his spoon in the drawer. He shook his head in wonder, then grinned widely to himself.

"Women!" he exclaimed aloud.

"You got that right," said Cho in passing, who had obviously overheard Jane's frustrated lament and wholeheartedly agreed. Jane watched in amusement as the agent kept walking, out through the glass doors and out of sight.

Jane chuckled all the way up to the attic.

A/N: You like? If so, please let me know! Also, those of you following my story "Red Tape": if I don't get a chapter out by Sunday, it will likely be several more days until I have the time to sit and write. I'm going out of town for a few days. Please don't forget about me . Thanks for reading!


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